


Who You Are

by Unfathomablespace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, I suppose, In my opinion really, M/M, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfathomablespace/pseuds/Unfathomablespace
Summary: Sherlock cherishes John. He always has.





	

One thing Sherlock held onto was the cane. He knows it's exact dimensions, what it's made out of, the smell of the dirty rubber. He loves it and much as John hates it but he would never say. It was the one thing was sure of. He knew he'd helped John with that one thing. Their first night together meant more to him than Sherlock would ever be able to articulate. The day that John packed the thing away, he was heartbroken in some unfathomable way and overjoyed in another.

That night was painted in fresco in the heart of his mind palace. It hung in every photo frame. It was woven into the tapestry of his soul. John had changed him over the course of the years like a drop of water that grew into a river. Then slowly, into a sea that carved caves into Sherlock’s very personhood. Yes, John had changed him but he had changed John too.

He had eased John’s pain that first night and had become addicted to the feeling. He chased it down at every turn. He began to actively seeking out things that would make John happy. An action which was very accessible to a man like Sherlock. 

He watched John and noted his little idiosyncrasies and their quiet beauty. Sherlock bought the tea that John liked - even though it was down right acidic. He kept the temperature in the flat higher than he himself enjoyed. He gave him everything he could - his credit card, his home, his heart. He could afforded Baker Street with no trouble at all but he wouldn't have wanted it without John. 

Sherlock was aware that John didn't notice and he was glad of the fact at first. It was a delicious secret. John could be content and could believe that his depression was leaving him be. He knew that John was terrified of his own supposed weakness. Sherlock scoffed internally at that. As if John could ever be thought of as weak. 

The only difference between John and Achilles, to Sherlock, was the location of the scarring. Nonetheless,he did everything he could and kept it all in his chest. Sherlock would turn the tides of the sea for John.

When John went out on one of his dates, though, that's when Sherlock blew out the candle in his chest. The flat seemed dark and as soon as John walked through the door. It was like being in a house that had lain vacant for a few years. How could he deal with this? A women night make John happy and that was what Sherlock wanted, after all. But at what cost?

He decided to ask him out. He knew how abrasive he had been towards John's advances In Angelo’s. But that was the old Sherlock. This new Sherlock wanted to be “attached” to John. He was being eaten alive by his longing and didn't know how he could continue like this. Maybe John just didn’t realise how he cared. He had made John a part of his work and thought that would enough of a clue.

He wondered how did all those funny transparent people hold all this emotion inside of them. They were so predictable and so very boring but they managed feeling all the time. Sherlock felt like a jar overflowing. He was bursting with affection even if I wasn't requited. They seemed so silly, the steady stream of lonely hearts that came to him with estranged sweethearts or old love letters. He had thought them pathetic and now that he was amongst their number, he was sure of it.

So he did it. Sherlock wore his good shirt, ruffled his hair and asked John out on a date. He had bought tickets to an artistic Chinese circus that promised adventure. He knew John would love it, he'd had a hunch. But when John walked into the room, Sherlock saw he was wearing his date shoes and the calcification of his stomach began.

“I'm going on a date.” Of course he was, he looked gorgeous. Those shoes gave him an extra half inch and it made him feel confident. Sherlock looked at him feeling each beat of his heart in the tops of his ears and his fingertips. He schooled his face against panic and dove in.

“That's what I was suggesting”

There. Now it was between and everything would hinge on this. John's reaction would kill him or cure him although it felt like both. John looked confused for a second and looked to the side. Sherlock stared at the slight quirk of his lips.

“No its wasn't. At least I hope not”

Oh, that stung. That cut him to his quick. And the following revelation that John wouldn't go to him for dating advice hurt him even more. Sherlock would be excellent at dating. He would be absolutely amazing at dating John. He would be the very best at dating John.

Sherlock was just going to have to live like this. John made him operate on a higher plane. He doubted Lestrade would allow John to stop coming to crime scenes due to just how much he mellowed Sherlock. There would have to be some sort of visitation if John were to leave.

Later when Sherlock got to join in on John's date he was delighted. Lord above, he was looking at him the same way he had on the first night. He licked his lips and smiled and radiated warm. He only got mad when Sherlock got directly in the way of John’s conquest reaching a consummation. Which Sherlock had not done purposefully. However it was a deeply happy side effect. And besides, the circus performers were clearly involved with Sebastian’s break in.

Sherlock has high on the case from the that point on and John joined in after Sarah finally got the hint. He was giddy and dash it all, he was careless. But John was to blame as well. He did make fun of Sherlock. Which had been unfair since Sherlock had been crying out for his life at just that second. But now he got to play the hero. Sherlock loved being the hero, he was just a show off after all. John would praise him. Everything would be wonderful. 

***

It was not wonderful. That silly woman who had been to medical school had not possessed the sense to tip her chair back avoid dying. Ordinary people are a bloody wonder. Why did John bother? And now, John would be cross. Sherlock would bare it.

Getting out of there had been awkward. John had insisted on getting Sarah home in a taxi but she had declined. She moved gingerly and twitched, clearly shook by the events. She was an incredibly unsuitable mate for John, surely he saw that. Now she would be less forgiving of his taking time off. Damn. John had to notice his pattern of growing bored in these relationships eventually. He had to see he didn't enjoy this mundane mill.

At home, he psyched himself up for the anger, for the disappointment he was sure John would feel. It never came. John laughed at the dramatics of the show and Sherlock had made them look like fools. 

After a glass of whiskey that had left Sherlock, hopeful,on the edge of his seat, John went upstairs. Sherlock had quiet that night,listening for nightmares brought on by his own stupidity. But the screams never came. John actually made a cooked breakfast the next morning and brought Sherlock tea and toast. They read the newspapers in silence like an old married couple. Sherlock curled his toes in his slippers.

John complimented him softly. He was was trying to reassure something in Sherlock. Sherlock dismissed it in what he thought was a very mysterious, heroic James Bond kind of way. 

He could be the hero John wanted him to be. He could be an adrenaline dealer for John if that's what he wanted. He knew now, he was sure now, that John despite original appearances didn't like him….like that. Sherlock thought he could live with that, if there were moments like these every so often.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unfathomablespace on tumblr. I embarrass myself there too.


End file.
